Repaid Debts
by Brooke2Broch
Summary: With the return of the Jolly Roger, Emma and Killian try to build a future together in Storybrooke. It seems to be smooth sailing, but when an evil they didn't see coming threatens Emma, Killian and Henry, they must find a way to be together, while fighting for their very lives. Rated MA for language, sexual content, as well as some violence.
1. Renaissance

**Chapter 1: Renaissance **

Emma blew an errant blonde hair out of her eye and lifted the bottom of her threadbare grey t-shirt to wipe the dust off of her face.

"Smee, could you hand me a paintbrush? I want to get this done before I leave for the day." She had been sanding what amounted to four square feet of wood for hours and looked forward to a nice tall glass of beer and some dinner at Granny's after she finished. With a glance across the deck of the Jolly Roger towards the Storybrooke Marina workshop, Emma wondered how Killian was managing with the fixes to his wheel.

His stout, red-hat-bedecked first mate ambled over to Emma with a paintbrush. "Here."

"Thanks, Smee." She said grasping the handle, and suddenly looked up. "Oh. Hey! I was thinking about maybe helping to clean the Captain's quarters tomorrow. What do you think?"

"Mm-hmm," he mumbled and returned to his work.

Emma shrugged her shoulders, and dipped the brush into the varnish, trying not to dwell on the first mate's sulky demeanor. She ignored the not-so-subtle voice in her head that kept saying he resented her as being the reason the ship had been bartered away in the first place.

_Well, the best I can do now is help to put the ship right again_, she thought, as she painted a clear coat onto the timber.

As the boat gently swayed, the soft creaking of the hull and sound of sandpaper on wood were a constant backdrop to her labors. It had only been a matter of weeks since the ship had arrived back in Storybrooke, but the captain had put his men to work immediately – above and below decks – and they were well on their way to wrapping up repairs. The Jolly Roger had been worse for the wear, but given that no one had ever thought they'd see her again, there were no complaints.

After a time Emma stood up, rubbing the sore muscles in her neck, and admired her handiwork. Satisfied, she flipped the brush over and tapped the lid down onto the can. Dropping the brush into the bucket of paint thinner, she leaned back against a wall.

She had now spent a fair bit of time with these men who were working around her and, despite her misgivings about Smee, she had come to a sort of understanding where they were concerned. They were coarse and irascible, independent and often ruthless, pirates. They wore clothes of linen and leather, some tattered and some freshly purloined, with heads shaved bald or hair long enough to plait. They were men who showed no outward signs of unity, either in demeanor or attire. Yet, it was clear to her that they all belonged here, together.

Belonging – something that had only ever happened to other people. Not Emma. There were those glimmering moments that she pushed way back into the recesses of her mind. Tiptoeing across a hallway on Christmas morning, lights twinkling on the tree and gifts wrapped in green and gold, finding her name, "Emma," right there in script on the packages and believing that if Santa found her there, she must belong. Walking into the front door of a party, nervous that she would be alone, but instead being grasped by the arm and pulled into a circle of laughing teens. Tumbling through the front door of an apartment with Neal, laughing and kissing their way down the hall.

And then came the blow. Without fail. Everything fell apart and there was nothing but a nauseating hurt, deep in the pit of her stomach. The feeling of once again being utterly and painfully alone. New Year's Day, being sent back to the group home, presents and all, because she was suddenly an inconvenience. Finding out that the popular girl only paid attention to her at the party because she was the new flavor of the week, quickly cast aside for some other nobody. Being set-up to take the fall by Neal, and left to serve time in prison, pregnant and alone.

But that was the past. She had found her home in Storybrooke. She was a part of something bigger than just herself. She belonged somewhere. And, she understood what drove this seemingly disparate group of men to work together to bring this ship back to life. It was _their_ home.

"I'm heading to Granny's, if anyone wants to join me," Emma said in offer to the work-weary sailors who remained on board. Looking towards the darkness spreading from the horizon, the men grunted and nodded their approval at this idea. Each quickly put their tools in order, with an efficiency that came from a few hundred years under Killian's command.

The men grew garrulous as they disembarked, each one regaling Emma with sordid tales of their many years aboard the Jolly Roger.

"Did you hear about the time Starkey got away from the King's men by climbing into a barrel of smoked fish?" said a dark-skinned man she thought was called "Blue."

She opened her mouth to reply, when another man with a red scarf sidled up next to her, saying, "Aye, now there's a story."

"'Ee smelled like fish for weeks!" came a reply to his left.

"Eh! When doesn't he smell like that?!" another voice cried out.

Starkey made to backhand the man who spoke the offending words, but he was too fast and darted away – the blow instead landing on the back of Blue's head. A spirited volley of insults ensued between Starkey and Blue, ending in the promise of an arm-wrestling match later.

"She don't wanna hear 'bout no fish barrel, mates! Tell 'er about our run-in with the sirens!" said the man at her arm. "Jackson tells it best! Oy! Jackson, over 'ere!"

The walk to Granny's was fast, and she was so wrapped up in the conversation that she only remembered just as she passed through the door that she had forgotten to stop by the marina to invite Killian to dinner.

Emma turned to Smee, "Why don't you grab those tables back there? I am going to get Ki-, uh, Captain Jones-, Hook." _Real smooth, Swan. _She had tried to maintain some semblance of formality when talking about Killian to his crew, even though they all knew full-well that it was only for their own sense of propriety rather than Emma's.

She opened the door and headed back up the sidewalk, away from Granny's. There was a breeze bringing cool, salty air off of the water, and a crescent moon hung in the orange-violet sky. Flowers bloomed in window-boxes everywhere and Emma took a deep breath, allowing herself to fully appreciate the familiar scents as she passed through the quaint Maine town that was now her home.

When Emma turned the corner to head down to the marina, however, her instincts kicked in and she froze for a moment on high alert. A hum of adrenaline rushed through her veins and something – call it magic or intuition – made her feel absolutely certain that she was not alone. She scanned the road ahead of her, in the shadows stretching out from the buildings, and just knew in her gut that someone was there in the darkness. Her hand dropped down to where she usually kept her side-piece, but she quickly realized there was nothing there and instead she reached down for a scrap piece of lumber near her feet.

Approaching the area with silent footsteps, and scanning from left to right, she stopped abruptly when a low voice came out of the darkness that sent a thrill down her spine and made the hair on her arms rise to attention.

"Ah yes, Swan. It must strike fear into the hearts of all the reprobate in Storybrooke to know that our fearless Sheriff is on the beat – armed with her trusty stick."

Emma tossed the wood aside. "It was the first thing I could find. I should have hit you with it. It would serve you right, lurking out here in the dark. Miscreant."

"Aye. But, an extraordinarily striking miscreant, don't you think?"

"If by striking, you mean-"

Killian stepped into a pool of light, his lips curled into a mischievous grin.

"Uh." _Oh shit._ What in holy hell was he wearing? As usual, his dark hair was perfectly untidy, his earring glinted in the light, and he had a couple days growth in his beard. But that was where the similarity ended. He had changed into a crisp white dress shirt and dark tailored vest, jeans and a wide leather belt. Glancing down, she saw the toes of a pair of black leather boots. Emma closed her mouth which had been opened in shock, and tried to fix her face into something resembling an expression of normalcy.

But then she looked him over once more and it was hard to hang onto rational thought as she adjusted to this new reality – this new incarnation of Killian. The cotton of his shirt was stretched tight across his shoulders and open wide at the neck, and the jeans were snug in all the right places. It was either the skulls on his chain or the metal of his belt buckle – or possibly something more esoteric than that – but more than a little of the pirate remained. There was no ignoring the fact that he looked equally as dangerous in these clothes as he did in his leathers.

A look of self-satisfaction spread across his face. Cocking an eyebrow, he started towards her – unhurried, but utterly focused. He had always had the ability to ease into her personal space in a way that was both calming and disarming at the same time – with a subtle shift of his hips, a shrug of his shoulders, and a tilt of his head, and always with softly-spoken, but pointed, inquiries. Once upon a time, this had made it terribly hard for Emma to keep the distance she had so sorely needed in order to prevent herself from opening up to him. But now that her walls were down, the thing that proved most disarming was how profoundly she wanted this man.

"You were saying, Swan? Cat got your tongue?" He touched his own tongue to his upper teeth.

Her eyes were on his, evaluating. The night air that lay between them was charged with the possibility of imminent iniquity, but she wasn't yet ready to give into her baser urges; so she said simply, "Nice outfit."

"Thought I'd try something new for a change."

"When- Where did you get all of this?" She motioned up and down with her hand.

Killian looked down – embarrassed? – and brushed off the question. "I don't know. One of my men. It's of no consequence."

"He says to the walking lie detector. Alright - what's the story?"

He rolled his eyes and blew out a frustrated breath. "Charming. The man is insufferably stubborn. I had ventured into the establishment of a local merchant of men's apparel only yesterday. Just to gather ideas for some future purchase. No sooner had I entered, than I encountered your father. Brooking no arguments, he took up the cause and, now, I'm well and fully stocked with more clothes of your world than I know what to do with." He glanced down to look at the clothes in question, and plucked at his vest.

The thought of Prince Charming helping Captain Hook pick out clothes was incredibly amusing to Emma, and she tried her level best not to laugh, but failed.

In answer to her sniggers, he shook his head and grimaced. "Glad to know my ordeal amuses."

"Sorry. It's just – the two of you – on paper, it's pretty funny. I think you had to grow up here to understand."

"I suppose so," he said, eyebrow raised. Then he shifted his shoulders within the shirt, straightened up, and said, "These things take some getting used to, though."

"Honestly, it really does suit you. And if you're feeling a little uncomfortable, a-hem, 'it's a cross I'm willing to bear.'"

"Touché. I'm glad it meets with your approval, then."

"Yes it does," she admitted.

Without forethought or reservation she reached out to touch his chest. Lightly drawing her fingertips across the coarse hairs there, she took a hold of his chain and lightly tugged on it, urging his head towards her. The scent of leather lingered on his skin as he came nearer, tenderly kissing her lips. She thought briefly about how he must have just changed into this outfit moments ago…and then she thought only of how miraculous his mouth felt on hers.

The stillness of the night wrapped around them like a shield from the world, and she welcomed it as an invitation. Needing to feel him – just him – she wrapped her arms around his back, pulled his shirt out and ran her hands up and under it, caressing the solid stretch of muscles under his smooth skin. In response, Killian gathered her body to his, pivoted and pinned her against the nearest wall, bending to kiss her more thoroughly.

He sucked lightly on her lower lip, grazing teeth over it and moved to kiss her further, but instead, Emma took his face in both her hands and pulled back to look into his eyes. Eyes that were the deep clear blue of the ocean he so loved, now darkened in the evening's shadows and with his desire. These were eyes that had seen centuries of battles, distant lands, mythical creatures and the makings of tales that had yet to be told to her. But despite knowing only a handful of these stories that had shaped his life, she _knew _this man. Sometimes she felt like she had always known him. Killian Jones. A pirate turned hero. A man who had sacrificed his home so she could find hers. A man who both celebrated her gifts and was undaunted by her shortcomings. And a man, she was coming to learn, on whose shoulders rested much of her happiness.

As though reading her thoughts, he smiled softly and nodded, bringing his hand up to cup her face as well. Then he bent to kiss her cheek, her earlobe, and down her neck to a spot that made her arch back in pleasure.

Suddenly, they both stopped.

A sound up the road from them had drawn their attention. Footsteps. Regina was visible between the buildings, striding up Main Street. She must have been out for a walk to her vault, which she seemed to do more frequently these days – something that had not escaped Emma's notice.

With an unspoken missive, Killian and Emma quickly adjusted their shirts and looked to each other for some tell-tale sign of what they had been up to. He smoothed her hair down and said, "It appears she didn't see us."

"I guess not," she breathed out. With a quiet sigh of resignation in having to put the night's proceedings on hold, she squeezed his hand and then dropped it, starting up the street towards Granny's.

"Emma. As much as I love consorting in dark alleys, I think it's time to bring this out into the open, don't you? Regina likely already knows of our...dalliance."

"I know. I just feel like we need to be careful about flaunting it in front of her. It would be nice to not have our conversation go south because she has another reason to hate me. Aside from Marian. Like say, public escapades with a remarkably dashing older gentleman."

"A-ha! You admit I'm remarkably dashing!" he exclaimed.

"Three hundred years of women throwing themselves at you and you still need me to say it out loud?"

Killian laughed, saying, "You clearly overestimate the availability of the fairer sex in Neverland."

She gave him a sideways smile. "Perhaps. Getting back to the point, though, I do agree with you. Let me just poke around a bit. If I can't get anything more out of Regina, there's no sense in continuing this way. We can go public with this. Us. Not in a ceremony at Granny's, but…no more dark alleys."

At this last statement, he flashed her a look of mock disappointment, and she added with a smile, "Okay. We'll keep the dark alleys."

As they walked, Emma couldn't help but feel uneasy about talking with Regina. Things had grown icy between them after Marian came back to town. And that was aside from the quite literal cold that had befallen the town. But, with another crisis to handle – fixing the mayhem that Elsa had caused - Regina had spoken to Emma only insofar as she needed to in order to thaw the town. It had been easy enough to avoid confrontation for a time, but it was inevitable they would have to put this behind them in one way or another, because it had grown entirely too awkward planning Henry's shared parenting with Regina.

The two quickly made their way to Granny's, with no run-ins. They opened the door to the sound of hearty laughter and a room full of pirates, now joined by the Merry Men, who had all been plied with drink and food. No Robin though, which Emma thought probably meant he was with his family.

A man who went by the name of Sir Galwin (whose knightly credentials Emma greatly questioned) gestured to his neighbor, Charlie, "and this one, says 'ee, 'I'll take the red one and the blonde, but you can keep the others.'" The room was in hysterics. "And we're all wondr'n, we is. Does 'ee realize 'ee's not barterin' for two wenches, 'ee's only just bought 'imself two bleedin' chickens?!"

"Aye, mate." Killian snagged a mug of beer and slipped into the conversation as though he were always there. "But, that night, I made him sleep with the scurvy fowl. We slept on deck, under the stars, listening to the bedlam below, laughing as he shouted at those damn birds all night long."

Everyone was smacking the table and full of mirth, adding colorful comments here and there.

The captain glanced at Charlie, "Made you swab the mess they left behind the next day, as I recall."

"Aye," Charlie said with a hint of chagrin. "Bloody feathers stick to everything."

"I've never seen a man so enjoy his chicken dinner, the way Charlie did the next day," Killian said. The crowd exploded with laughter. "And, mate, you never did try to make a deal with a gypsy again."

Emma sat down next to Charlie and he said, rather seriously, in what felt like her general direction, "Pirate or no, if you're on his crew, you better learn right quick that Cap'n Hook never does stand by 'is men getting their women by barters, trickery or force." The handful of men nearby nodded mutely and Emma wondered if Charlie hadn't gotten a light punishment when compared with some of his other "mates."

She gazed down the table in the direction of the man in question – currently taking a fair bit of ribbing over his new attire. He was full of contradictions, her pirate. And, though she rarely admitted it to herself, she was attracted to both his gallantry _and_ his darkness.

Feeling the weight of someone's stare, she turned to find Ruby leaning against the counter, a knowing look in her eyes, shaking her head at Emma.

There was no denying it to Ruby. She had probably _smelled_ Killian on her when she handed her the beer. So, Emma shrugged her shoulders and grinned, and Ruby raised a glass in her direction. Emma raised one as well and smiled into her cup as she took a long swig of ale.

As the hour hand drew closer to twelve, Emma excused herself from the table and tossed a couple of twenties down. "I'm off to bed. See you all tomorrow." She stood up, glancing at Killian, who stayed put – lest they endure all manner of ribald jokes – and quietly inclined his head toward her.

* * *

She left Granny's and walked back to her new apartment by the water. It was a calm clear night, which was helpful since she had decided to take the long way home, using a route that took her past the mayor's house. The light in the bedroom window let her know that Regina was still awake. Emma said a silent apology for causing the Marian mess, as she so often did, and kept walking. In fact, it was probably her mind playing tricks on her, but more than once, Emma swore she saw someone that looked like Marian out of the corner of her eye. But upon closer inspection, it always seemed to be someone else. She made her mind up to reflect on the past few weeks as she walked, rather than let her imagination get the better of her.

After the dust settled from the Elsa debacle, Emma had gone back to work as Deputy Sheriff alongside her father, and Killian had found work running the Storybrooke Marina. He had expressed happiness in this, but when Emma came to meet him after work, she couldn't help but notice how frequently he snuck wistful glances towards the sea. And she knew. Somehow, she had to help get him the Jolly Roger back.

The unfortunate fact of the matter was that no one knew where the boat was. Emma had exhausted all the resources they had in Storybrooke to try and find that ship. And then one day Ariel swam into town and mentioned that she had seen the Jolly Roger nearly a year before. A group of rag-tag pirates had sailed her fast and hard to an island called Drythea and disembarked for a long stretch of drunken debauchery on land.

When Emma told Killian what she had found out, his initial reaction was apprehension. He had told her not to get her hopes up – that he was happy enough without the ship. _Have we not been through enough mortal peril, Swan?_

But when Rumpelstiltskin – in an unusual show of cooperation – had produced the magic wand that had carried them forward in time to Storybrooke, the idea of getting the Jolly Roger back no longer seemed impossibly dangerous, and he acquiesced.

The plan was rather simple: since the magic had been used before, Emma was able to use the wand again to transport herself, Killian, and some of his crew into the past, right onto the deck of the Roger. In fact, she had focused so hard on landing the crew at that point in time that she nearly broke a leg slamming into the deck of the ship, as the portal opened on the other end. The ship – albeit in very poor condition – was completely vacant, as Ariel had said it would be. With no obstacles to the return trip, Emma quickly opened a portal in the water off the bow of the ship, and everyone held tight to the ropes as Killian steered the ship and crew right back into the Storybrooke Harbor of the future.

Now, as she neared her new home by the sea, she could just make out the Jolly Roger's masts and it made her heart swell. She paused for a moment to fix the image in her mind and stepped onto a rocky path lined with wild roses.

Emma had reached the old Victorian home where she was now in residence on the second floor. Her unit was up a set of stairs in the back, so she grabbed her mail from the box out front and rounded the corner. She drew up short when she found Killian occupying the bottom stairs.

"What are you doing here? If you left right after me, everyone is going to know-"

"Everyone does know," he interrupted. "But, it's of no consequence. I left a quarter hour after you. We had some _unfinished business_ that I wanted to attend to, love. But, when I went to knock on your door, I saw your mother on the couch sleeping and didn't want to wake her. I presumed she would have been gone if you were home."

Emma walked over and sat next to him. "I just wanted to make sure Regina was okay."

"Yes. I understand." He said, scratching his jaw, eyes serious. Both knew that what she really meant was: _to make sure she is not up to something._

They each looked out into the dark harbor at the lights twinkling on far-off buoys, listening to the faint sound of riggings clattering on nearby boats. The moon hung low in the sky.

"So I take it the lad is up there as well?"

Emma nodded. "Honestly, I should probably go. She said that she wants a night away from the baby to get some rest, and I'm sure Dad is more than willing to oblige her, but I want to give her the choice of going home to him anyway. Something tells me a few hours away from Neal is all that she can handle."

"I don't know. A few hours with Charming and I would welcome a night away, but that's just me."

She smacked him on the shoulder, good-naturedly. "You don't fool me, Hook. Deep down inside, you know you love him."

His head glanced back as though Emma had hit him, and he spoke an octave higher than usual, "Let's not make fallacious accusations, Swan. I've made men walk the plank for less."

She laughed. "I'll take my chances."

"Well, well, well. So sure of yourself, princess. This time, we will attribute my lenience to my judgment being clouded by your surpassing beauty."

"Mm-hmm. Well, flattery will get you nowhere my friend. I am going up to bed. Alone."

"Aye. Well. You have been warned." He took his hook and pushed her hair over her shoulder, running it down her arm. His good hand was on her leg, thumb slowly moving back and forth high in her inner thigh. She shivered and he smiled with a glint in his eyes.

"Goodnight, Killian." She stood up to leave, before she let him take her right there on the bottom stair, on-lookers be damned.

He took her arm, pulling her to him, so he could kiss her heartily. Then he let go. In a voice laced with innuendo, he spoke to her as she climbed the stairs. "I'll be aboard my ship, Swan. Thinking about how tomorrow I will thoroughly tend to all that ails her. Knowing that the only way I will be satisfied with the job is by running my hands over every inch of her. I will not forget to attend to the hidden places that only I know. And I will lay deep inside of her, listening to her softly groan, as she always does when the sea moves against her. Only then, will I take my slumber."

He stood up and sauntered away, leaving Emma with an ache that would only subside later, when she was alone in her bed, touching herself, but thinking only of him.


	2. Dangerous Liaisons

**Chapter 2: Dangerous Liaisons**

"Do you know how hard it is to get lavender here?!" Grumpy stood in front of Emma's desk angrily pointing at Sneezy.

He bit back, "I'm allergic to it! Couldn't you plant something else?"

"You're allergic to everything, you twit! That's no reason to rip out my plants."

"I put them back in the pots. They aren't dead, just moved." He stopped, as though struck by genius. "Hey! I'm not allergic to daisies."

"Whoopy ding. I'll just plant daisies then." Grumpy said sullenly.

"What's wrong with daisies?" Sneezy asked him, sincerely.

Grumpy started to puff up his chest, looking like he was going in for another round, when Emma shook her head, breathed deep and cut in, "No offense guys, but if this is the only reason you came in today, I don't think there is much I can do. Uprooted botanicals aren't really my area of expertise."

They both turned to look at her, as though they had forgotten she was there. Grumpy's face contorted with barely contained rage. He glanced at Sneezy and back to her. "Sure. Take his side!" Then he stormed out the door.

Sneezy shrugged his shoulders. "I like daisies," he said quietly, and followed him out.

And so the day continued at the Storybrooke Police Station, small town antics punctuating an otherwise mind-numbingly dull day. Emma spent half the morning leaning against the front door, clutching her coffee against her red leather jacket, watching townsfolk go about their business on a bright, crisp morning.

At one point, a couple of men from the bank came in to report that someone had been regularly taking their chained down pens and, trying very hard to maintain a straight face as she wrote up a report, she told them that she would look into it.

Later, Granny called to inform Emma that there had been a minor theft of one of her favorite vases. Emma assured her that she could both locate the culprit and return the item quickly. With a room full of pirates and bandits in the diner the night before, she had a pretty good sense of who would have done such a thing. Old habits die hard.

* * *

Around ten, Emma dropped her jacket on her chair, walking out of the door in a flouncy purple scoop neck shirt and black pants. She walked the streets for a time, hoping to bump into Regina, but that didn't happen. The day had grown warmer, though, so she cut her losses and decided to buy a cup of iced coffee to make the walk worthwhile.

As she left the coffee shop, Emma ran into Ruby taking a break after the morning shift at Granny's. "Ruby! Nice to see you. Where are you headed?"

"Oh, the park, I guess." She linked her arm with Emma's. "Want to walk that way with me?"

"Sure," She stuck a straw into her drink, taking a sip. "How are things?"

"You know. Same as always. Business has been good ever since the last curse. More people came back this time, I think."

"Yeah. I feel like I've seen quite a few new faces around." After Zelena, Emma was far more wary of new faces than she had been in the past.

"Have you seen those cuties at the bank? I might stop by there later today." She winked at Emma.

"Good luck with that. You don't happen to be taking their pens, do you?" Emma said, laughing.

"What?" She laughed. "No. Why would I do that?"

"I have NO idea. They _are_ attractive guys. A tad neurotic. But attractive."

"We're all a little neurotic, aren't we?"

"Yeah. Archie is never lacking for clients, is he?" For a moment, Emma thought about asking him for information on Regina, but she knew he'd never spill.

They were quiet for a moment, looking out at the pond. A mallard duck skittered in for a landing across the water, sun glinting off the ripples left in its wake. Marco sat on the far side, tossing bread crumbs in its direction.

"Of course, there are plenty of familiar faces here, too." Ruby elbowed Emma lightly. "Some of them have really grown attached to…Storybrooke. Maybe they're even trying out some new clothes."

Emma chuckled. "Don't beat around the bush or anything."

"Do I ever? Soooo. Captain Hook. How is that?"

She tried to think of how best to answer, but her mind immediately went to last night. His body in that outfit. The feel of his skin under her wandering hands. What she would have let him do to her in that dark street if things hadn't been cut short. A flush rose in her cheeks and Ruby laughed.

"Ohhh. _That _good."

She smiled and shook her head, "You have no idea. The things he does."

"That hook."

"Right? Yeah. The hook." They both exhaled and were silent for a moment. Then they turned to each other and grinned.

"Okay. But that aside. Are you happy?"

Her eyes followed the path of a leaf caught on the breeze, considering how much she wanted to say. She worried if she said what she was thinking out loud, it made it more real. In her experience, most of the good things she thought were real had been fantasy. The irony was that in Captain Hook, a man whose name was written on the pages of childhood fairy tales, she had found something more real than she'd ever experienced in her entire life. _Oh, what the hell_, she thought. "Yes. Very much so. I keep thinking that the other shoe's going to drop. But it never does."

"Oh, Emma. You deserve this. You really do."

"Thanks, Red. If you could keep it under wraps for now, though, it would probably be best."

"Regina?"

"Exactly. I just feel like after all Killian and I have been through, we deserve some time without anyone trying to rip us apart."

As if on cue, Emma could see a familiar form striding out of the park in her usual tailored suit.

Ruby's head inclined, as though catching a scent and she nodded and said, "It's her."

"Uh, do you mind if we finish talking later?" Emma said. "I have to go."

Leaning over to give a quick hug, she said, "Sure, sweetie. Do you need my help?"

"No. I have to do this alone, but thanks." She pitched her cup in the trash. "Later."

"I understand. Later, Emma."

Emma jogged down the path, in the direction she had seen Regina walk out of the park. She scanned the area. No Regina.

"Where did you go?" she muttered under her breath, looking up and down a row of houses that backed up to a narrow road.

"Looking for someone, Swan?" Regina stepped out from the side of a nearby house.

"Yes. Regina. I've been hoping to run into you."

"I don't have time to talk. I'm busy right now. Surely you have some other business to take care of? Sheriff's business."

Regina turned to leave.

"Wait! Hold on a minute. Can we talk? How are things?"

"Other than losing the love of my life again? Just peachy."

Emma winced inside, but refused to let any reaction show. "I've said I'm sorry, but to be fair, if I hadn't brought Marian back, you would have killed her. And we both know that if Robin had ever found _that _out, he would have never forgiven you. At least, now, there is hope for you two."

"Hope?" She laughed. "Do you even hear yourself? A few weeks with Hook and you've lost all sense of reality."

Emma opened her mouth to contradict her, but Regina held her hand up, cutting her off. "Don't even try to deny it. You think everyone in this town hasn't seen you sneaking around with your pirate boyfriend? Why don't you run along to him and that _ship_ and leave me to my own affairs."

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me why you've been spending all that time at your vault. What is going on?"

"Ha ha ha. That's rich. You think _I _owe _you_ an explanation? You think I owe you anything at all? Well, you may not be leaving, Swan, but I am." With that she twisted her hand and disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

_That was productive, _Emma thought, and turned to walk back to work.

* * *

At lunch, Emma called Charming to take over for her. She grabbed some take-out from Granny's and headed over to the docks. The crew was moving across the Jolly Roger with equipment and tools, and with a thrill, Emma saw Hook gesturing and giving commands from behind a wheel that was shining like new.

Today, he was back in his leathers. And wearing the red vest she hadn't seen since…well…it had been a while. As though drawn by her gaze, he turned in her direction and smiled.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain?"

"Aye. Particularly if that bag contains a roast turkey sandwich." He turned back to the ship, "Alright you scalawags! Make haste to set things right and you may take your break."

She took in the scene with a sense of contentment, knowing that she was able to help give this back to him. Now, as the sailors passed Emma and headed off to their respective places for lunch, a smile spread across her face with the joy she felt for Killian.

"So sure I'd get you lunch, are you? How do you know this isn't just my lunch in here?" Emma said to him.

"I know you, Swan. You're the savior. And right now, you know that only a roast turkey sandwich is going to save me from starvation."

She laughed, taking a paper-wrapped sandwich out of the bag and handing it to him. "Here it is. But Granny was out of turkey, so she made you bologna."

His hand faltered, mid-air, as he inspected her face through squinted eyes. He shook his finger at her laughing, "Ha ha! You're good. But I've been a pirate three hundred years longer than you. And, like I said, I know you." He took the sandwich from her and sat down on a crate.

Those weren't just empty words, she thought. It gave her a thrill to find that he _did _know her. This was, in no small part, one of the reasons she had let him into her heart.

"Oh yeah, Captain? Well, then I guess you will already know that I've taken the afternoon off to help you clean out your cabin."

He took a bite of his sandwich and smiled. "Mmm, no. I did not. Are you sure you want to tackle that particular task? It's a bloody mess down there."

"I'm pretty sure that working in the galley was far more revolting, Killian. I don't even want to talk about what was in the sink. I'm not even sure I know what it was." She looked down at her sandwich; suddenly not as hungry as she had been a moment ago.

"Aye. Smee was impressed with your willingness to take on that job. And he was once a rodent, so he's seen his fair share of refuse."

She smiled, "Really? I didn't get that from him. I think what he said when he walked into the room was, 'Don't forget to clean out the cabinets when you're done with that,' and then he walked away."

Killian chuckled. "Yes. Well, he's not big on words, that one."

"Yeah. I already figured that out," she said. "Not sure he likes me, to be honest."

"You have to remember, love, he's spent long centuries caring only about himself and this ship. He likes you as much as a man like that can." He thought for a moment and said, grinning, "I should know. I was that man, too. Until I encountered a tetchy young lass who wanted nothing more than to nail me to a pillory."

She smiled. "Tetchy, huh? Better choose your words carefully. I am not afraid to use my magic on you."

"I'm more than happy to oblige, milady. Will it be my hook that you remove this time? Or perhaps some other item?" He swiped his hand downward, to indicate his clothes, with a sly expression on his face.

She let that last statement hang in the air and took a bite of her sandwich. They ate in silence together for a while, as the hum of desire vibrated between the two, the way it always had, even when they were at odds so long ago.

Knowing that nothing could come of those feelings right now, Emma broke the silence, "Spoke with Regina. It, ahh, didn't go so well."

"I didn't expect it would. Did you get anything out of her?"

Emma shook her head. "It's really bothering me – all these trips to the vault. I can't tell if she's down there working on some nasty spell, or if she's clinging on to some love token Robin gave her, crying and listening to Carole King."

"Who?"

"Never mind. I still don't trust that woman."

"I never told you this, but she spoke to me once of happy endings, in Neverland. I don't think her happy ending lies down the path of vengeance any longer. Speaking from experience, it is rather hard to go back to a life of malice when you've seen what true love can accomplish. And to that end, there's Henry's opinion now, as a consideration for her."

Killian had always had the gift of honing in on the heart of a matter. Regina's only love _was_ Henry now. And they were in a good place – a place of forgiveness and understanding. Surely she wouldn't throw away his trust when she had worked so hard to gain it back from him.

Looking out across the horizon, he added, in a voice laced with regret, "Then again, I was lost when I didn't have you for that year. I made some choices I would just as soon forget. It was only when there was a hope of reuniting with you that my pursuit of redemption was renewed."

"I know. You don't have to tell me, but I know. That's why I can't help but worry for Marian. And if I have to be honest, I worry for you, too."

"Don't concern yourself with my safety. No injury will befall me. I've survived the schemes of the Evil Queen thus far. Besides, she knows your magic is stronger than hers."

Emma smiled at the compliment. "Only time will tell, I suppose."

The two finished their lunches quietly, as a light breeze blew across the deck of the ship. They stood up as the men started to trickle back on deck.

"I'll get the cleaning supplies and be right back, Captain," she said with a smile. He nodded his head.

"Alright, mates! Back to work! I want to see this ship set to right by the week's end."

* * *

Emma walked up the docks and over towards the old Victorian that sat on the harbor just a block away. She climbed the stairs and turned the knob to enter her apartment. Henry was there cleaning up after his own lunch.

"Hi Mom! How was work?"

"Henry, I'm so happy to see you. I didn't expect you back until later. Is school out?" She sat down next to him, ruffling his hair.

He shook his hair back into place, saying "No. They were serving macaroni surprise in the cafeteria. I don't know what the surprise is, but I don't want to find out."

Emma laughed. She sat down at the counter and told him all about her morning, and he laughed along with her when she told him about the wayward lavender plant.

"Killian was hoping you might be able to stop by and see the progress on the ship later. What do you think?"

"Sure," he suddenly looked at the clock and said, with his mouth full of ham sandwich, "Oh man! I have to get back to school. I've got an algebra quiz this afternoon I can't miss."

She stood up and hugged him. "Get to it then. I know you'll do great."

"Thanks. I'll clean this up later!" He grabbed his backpack and ran out the door. "See you on the ship after school."

"Yeah. Bye!"

Emma took a few moments to clear up the remains of Henry's lunch. Then she grabbed a bucket and some cleaning supplies from under her sink, closing the door and locking it behind her. She had to hand it to Regina that she had raised Henry well; Emma had never cared about school the way he did. It was something she had to endure as she moved from home to home. Despite the "Evil Queen" thing, Regina had actually been a terrific mother.

* * *

She boarded the Jolly Roger, looking around for Killian. _He must be back at the boathouse getting more supplies_, she thought.

Emma descended the steep stairs into the captain's quarters and nearly missed the bottom stair in the darkness. Shit. Why hadn't she remembered to get a flashlight? The blinds, or what was left of them, were drawn across windows thick with grime. She felt around in the dark for the lantern, and lit the candle within using magic. Then she crossed to the windows to let some air into the musty room. When she turned back around, she nearly jumped out of her skin as the light revealed a dark, person-sized shadow.

"Damn it! Killian, you have got to stop doing that." Emma said on a startled breath.

"Why would I stop doing something that brings me so much joy?" Killian was leaning, arms-crossed, against the wall. "I was hoping it would be you," he said with a half-grin.

"What are you doing down here in the dark? Clearly not sleeping."

"Sleeping?" He laughed. "No. I've been giving some thought to that bit of subterfuge we carried out in the past. More precisely, I was marveling at how quickly and _convincingly_ you discharged your task of keeping my past self _occupied _that evening." He took his chin in his hand and stroked his lip in thought. "Bringing him back to my ship? One might have cause to think that you wanted to act on some secret desire to, ah, despoil a certain dashing swashbuckler, with no recourse."

Emma took a steadying breath. "That's ridiculous. I was just doing what you asked me to do. It's not my fault he wouldn't stay put." She stepped sideways, putting the lantern on a table.

Killian peeled away from the wall and began to slowly close the distance between them. "As you well know - Emma - all actions have recourse.'"

"Killian, you know I wasn't _actually_ going to-"

"Bed me? Aye. That you say, _now_. I can't help but wonder, though, if you would have done the same were you asked to keep another Captain occupied? Had it been Blackbeard, say, would you have gone back to his quarters?" He met her just in front of the stairs, not touching her, but…so close.

"Of course."

"Neither of us really believes that, do we? I think you wanted to court danger with a version of me that wasn't asking for any attachments. That you wanted to-" He cocked his head to one side, speaking in a soft staccato, enunciating each word in his soft English lilt, "-_see how far you could go_."

"It was just for the mission. For my parents. And for me and Henry."

At this he laughed out loud. "Yes. Emma. I think there was more to it than that, don't you?"

"Besides, you said yourself. He- you don't remember. So, what's the harm?"

"Oh. He may not remember. But, I made a vow to myself that if the moment presented itself," he reached past Emma's head to grab the railing behind her and whispered into her ear, "I would make the kiss you shared with him a pale memory by comparison."

Emma looked up into his eyes in the dim light and a ghost of a smile traced her lips, daring him to do what she knew he had his mind set on doing. "I don't know, Captain. It was pretty amazing. I mean, you're no slouch now, but that kiss was….mmm." She ran her hand down his vest, fondling the cold metal buttons. He shifted his jaw and ran the tip of his tongue across his top teeth. For a moment, the only sound was of water lapping against the hull of the boat.

And then, before he could make his next move, she grabbed a hold of his lapels and pulled his mouth to hers, so quickly that she nearly missed the look of surprise in his eyes. They met in a frenzy of lips and tongue, hands on faces and in hair, struggling to keep balance in the heat of the moment.

His good hand moved towards her shoulder, slipped down her side, and then he unexpectedly grabbed her around the waist and lifted her bodily, setting her down on the stairs so she was just high enough to look down on him. He tugged her shirt up and over her head, and unlatched her bra, using his hook to glide the straps down over her shoulder and discard it on the floor.

For a moment he stood back, his eyes dark and steadily holding her gaze. He lifted his hand to her face, drawing his thumb from ear to lips, and then slowly down her neck, fingers splayed out and caressing her collarbone, teasing across the swell of her breasts. Then, cupping one, he leaned forward took it in his mouth. Emma bowed back and wrapped her legs around his torso, holding tight to the stairs as he took his time with her, moaning softly into the quiet of the cabin.

Breathing heavily he straightened up and offered his hand to her, so she could stand, her eyes locked on his. When her feet met the floor, she again took hold of his lapels, this time using them to pull his jacket off. They leaned towards each other to kiss, while she unbuttoned his vest.

"It's time I tell you something. I do have a confession to make, Killian. It's about this vest. It does things." Emma admitted, holding it for a moment before letting it fall.

"I am well aware," he said, pulling her to him for another kiss. This joining was full of heat and desire, a relentless dance of lips and tongue. Each was trying to ground themselves with a grasp of hair, a grip of fabric, but neither one could quite manage to find purchase. The urgency to meet skin-to-skin - to move against and inside of each other - was overwhelming.

She tugged his shirt free and yanked it over his head, running her hands down his body, around and up his back. His skin was warm, as it always seemed to be, and he smelled as he always did, amazing – an intoxicating scent of leather, clean linen, and some exotic spice. Leaning in, she touched her lips to his mouth, his cheek, his earlobe, and ran the tip of her tongue from ear to neck.

"Oh bloody hell, Emma," he said in a strained voice, "take those off."

"As you wish," she consented with a smile that reached her eyes, watching as he stripped bare in front of her first. Although this was not the first time she had seen him, just him, it still took her breath away. Beneath all those layers of leather and bravado was a lean body, strong arms and legs, a torso carved from years of carrying pillaged wares to his ship, and then, there was the _rest of him_, long and hard now, angled up against the muscles of his stomach.

She unbuttoned her pants and as soon as they hit the floor, he grabbed her around the waist, carrying her weight as he kissed them over to his bed. He was pressed hard against her as they walked, and her insides ached with need for him. As soon as they hit the bed, she moved to push down onto him.

"Oh no, love. I'm not through with you…yet," he said, accentuating that last word as he pulled back to gaze down on her. "Hold still. This won't hurt a bit."

Emma lay on her back, bared to him in every way possible and shivered, not from the cold, but in anticipation of what was to come. Killian knelt between her legs, bringing his hand and (thankfully dull) hook down her body, coming to rest at her hips. He smiled wickedly at her and held his hook in the air, just above the flat of her stomach. Then he brought it down and moved the tip across her pelvis, following the crease of her leg down to her inner thigh. Her entire being was focused on that one point where the metal met her flesh, as she whispered on a sigh, "Yes."

He brought his hook up to her pelvis once again and, glancing at her with a knowing smile, brought it down between her legs, across her sensitive flesh there. The cold of the metal gently caressing, combined with the fulfillment of an unspoken fantasy, made her feel utterly wanton and she arched back, grasping the blankets in ecstasy. In answer to her body's need, he eased his fingers into her, and started to build a rhythm. She whimpered and moaned and gave her body over to the feel of him inside of her.

He lowered his head to her at last. "Ah! Oh, God. Killian," she gasped with toes curled, her entire body reveling in the sensations brought about by his remarkable mouth. She grabbed his hair and breathed, "Ah. Ah. Ah. Ah."

"That's it, Emma. Let go," he said, lifting his head for a moment. And as pressure built and built and exploded over her in a rush of sensation, she screamed his name.

Emma's face was glowing in the candlelight and he lay down behind her, arms wrapped around and under her, fingers softly tracing the curves of her body. The floor beneath them rocked gently on the wake of a passing boat, and the air was laced with the salt of the sea air and drying paint.

"Well that was quite nice," Emma said, her breathing nearly back to normal. "The thing with your hook. I don't know how you knew, but-"

"Swan. Your darkest desires show on your face as clearly as if you had said them aloud."

"So you've said. Any idea what I'm thinking right now?"

He backed away from her slightly to get a better look at her face, cocking his head to one side, and then said with a grin, "You're thinking about how fortunate you are to have crossed paths with a man who is so shockingly talented." She ribbed him and he winced. "And you wish to further explore said talents post haste."

Boast or no, Emma felt no need to deny the sentiment. She took him into her hand, moving gently at first, and then more vigorously. She loved the sounds he made - short breaths and deep groans – as she gave him what he needed.

"Ah! Enough. Emma. Or we won't be here much longer."

Lying on her side in front of him, she tilted her hips back to guide him inside of her. In this position, the feeling was so overwhelming that she had to pause for a moment so that it wasn't over for her before she began. And then she started to move. Her hand reached back and clenched his thigh, pulling him harder, and harder into her.

"Oh Gods, Emma."

His hand was on her hip pulling her back while he rocked into her, rising to meet her every move. She was close, so close.

And then, suddenly she was irritatingly empty, as he pulled out of her and rolled her onto her back. Her insides ached, but quickly he went to his knees over top of her and thrust back into her slowly, circling his hips as he entered her. He continued like that, in and out, and she moved along with him, crying out every time he hit that spot deep inside her that put her closer to shattering around him.

He grabbed hold of her right ankle and pushed it up so her knee was under his chest. Then he began to move more quickly, deliberately angling up into her, sending waves of intense sensation through her body and out to her fingers and toes.

"Oh Yes! Killian. Right there." She could feel her release coming and cried out, "God! Yes!"

"Come for me, Emma. Now."

She wrapped her legs around him, moving with him as he drove into her once, twice, and then her orgasm exploded from her core and out through her body.

"Ah! Yes!" He thrust into her one last time, and stilled. They lay there joined together for some time, and slowly rolled apart.

"Well, that was-"

"Aye."


	3. All Beginnings Have an End

**Chapter 3: All Beginnings Have an End**

Emma was stretched out on the bed in Killian's quarters, half covered by a blanket and staring up at the ceiling. Muffled voices carried down to the cabin, as they lay side by side. Killian sat up and draped his legs over the side of the bed, pulling some covers over his lap and motioning for her to lay her head there. He looked down at her as she shifted onto him, his hand tracing the lines of her face.

"If I never knew you had magic, I'd believe it of you now. Here, in this light, you look every bit the enchantress."

Putting her hand over his, she smiled up at him.

After a few moments, she watched his eyes move away from her face to gaze unfocused at the candle on the table; he was lost in thought. He took a breath and said, with eyebrows furrowed, "Emma. That book of yours. It recounts numerous tales – so many lives and loves begun and ended. Your parents. Rumpelstiltskin. Pan…Me. In this land, the accounts are childhood lore. In mine, they are our history." He paused and looked down at her with an expression of deepest sincerity. "Whatever one believes of them, fantasy or reality, I can't help but feel as though they were written in prologue to _our_ story."

"If that's the case, there's no one I'd rather share the pages with than you," she said squeezing his hand.

His eyelids fluttered, and he breathed out. "I must confess – there were times I had my doubts. I came to wonder if I was simply imagining what lay between us; the uncertainty was nearly more than I could bear. But, then you came to me that night outside of the diner and-" he smiled down at her, his eyes speaking the words he couldn't find.

"Killian. I…have _always_ cared for you. Since the moment I met you in the Enchanted Forest – God, that ridiculous blacksmith story. And the nervous chatter." She shook her head and laughed. "I guess I saw something of myself in you."

His expression lightened and he grinned. "Well, I rather thought I was not alone in my sentiments. Although it did give me pause when you left me chained to that infernal giant's wall."

"Ohhh. That again." She sat up and leaned over to pick up her underwear, casting a playful look back at him as she pulled them on. "Better watch the guilt trips, my friend, or you'll find yourself chained up again. I _do_ have handcuffs."

He bent to her ear, speaking in a dangerous whisper, "Don't make promises you don't intend to keep, princess."

She just had time to deliver a jab to his arm when there was a bang from the overhead door. She quickly buried her body under the covers while Killian stood up, bared to the world, and shouted, "Whoever is up there better damn well have a good reason for entering my quarters without so much as a knock!"

Smee's voice came down through the hatch, "Sorry, uh, sir. I didn't know you were down there. I thought Emma might, uh, need some help. I thought I heard a shout and-"

"I think I have it quite well covered, don't you, mate?"

"Yes, sir," he said, closing the door with a thump.

By the time he turned back around, Emma had already started to pull her pants back on and was searching for her shirt near his desk. He cocked his head to the side, watching her bend over to peek underneath.

With a look back over her shoulder at him, she said, "Well, are you going to help me find my shirt? On a ship full of men, I think it would be best if I presented myself fully clothed, don't you?"

He walked over to a shelf near the stairs and extracted her shirt, handing it to her.

"So long as you're in my quarters, I don't think that clothes are of any relevance. But, do as you will," he said, taking his time to put on his own clothes.

"Do you think Smee saw anything?"

"No. It's dark down here and you were out of sight."

Killian picked up his shirt and slipped it over his head. Emma helped him fasten his vest. She leaned in to kiss him once more and grinned. "I guess this, uh, kiss was pretty decent. Compared to his, that is."

He shrugged on his jacket and shot her a glance, brows raised. "A tough one to please, you are."

"C'mon, Captain. We need to get above decks. Henry will be here soon and I don't want him to find us down here together."

"The lad likely knows exactly what we are doing, whether you want to think about that or not, but I'll agree I would rather not be caught in the act."

She followed him up the stairs, bringing her bucket of cleaning supplies so it looked like she had simply been working. She couldn't help but notice how every crew member was casually averting their gaze as she emerged into the daylight.

"You _do_ look bloody well fucked," he whispered in her ear and she reddened.

* * *

Henry turned up an hour later, pack slung over his back, wearing jeans and a black shirt, and waved to Emma on deck as he joined the captain on the aft deck. Several sailors nodded their heads in welcome as he passed, squinting into the afternoon sun as they looked up.

"Hey Killian."

"Henry, lad! How was school?"

"Great. My paper about _Treasure Island_ got an 'A.' Thanks for the help. Here you go," Henry pulled a book out of his bag and handed it to him.

Setting it aside, he said "It was my pleasure, mate. Now look over here. I've just discovered these in my cabin and wanted to show you."

"What is it?"

"Some scrolls that were left behind by those who, of recent, vacated my ship."

"You mean the people you stole your ship back from?"

He laughed and patted Henry on the back. "Aye, my boy. Let's take a look at these together."

Clearing off a nearby cask, he laid the scrolls out and the two huddled together to inspect the papers.

Emma watched Killian and Henry at a distance, wanting to fully give into the feeling of joy that this scene brought her. She had only had Henry in her life for a matter of years, but there wasn't anything she wouldn't do to protect him. Though she didn't believe Hook would ever crush her as Neal had, she couldn't let go of that part of her that prepared for the worst. Alone, she could handle that pain – she had done so before and could do it again if need be. But Henry was a boy. And she could see that he cared deeply for Killian as well. How would Henry survive it if he were ever to leave them?

"Emma?" A voice close at hand called her out of her thoughts.

"Dad. Hey." She saw he was wearing his badge on the belt loop of his jeans and gathered he was there on work-related business, given the serious look on his face.

He glanced in the direction Emma had been looking, drew his eyebrows together, and said, "You looked deep in thought. Hope I didn't interrupt anything."

"Oh no. You didn't. I was just thinking about what groceries I need to pick up after this."

His eyes shifted back to her, doubtful. "Right." He did a double-take and looked closer at her. "Did you do something different today, maybe your hair?"

Her face suddenly felt warm_. If getting multiple orgasms from a three hundred year old pirate is a look, then…_ "No, nothing new."

He suddenly glanced over at the captain, back to her and then shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I've got something I wanted to talk to you about. In private. You have a few minutes?"

"Sure." She shouted up towards the helm, "I'm going for a walk with David. Okay?"

"Not to worry, Swan. We're fine. I'll bring him back to you later." Killian bent over the scrolls again.

* * *

She followed her father off the boat and up the busy street, filled with Storybrooke residents running errands and stopping here and there to chat; some smiled and waved as they passed.

"I saw the clothes you helped Killian buy yesterday. Nice."

He shifted his jaw, "Thanks. He seemed a bit lost, so I thought I would offer some assistance. I see he's not wearing them today."

"Oh, he'll come around. He's just a bit hesitant. It's a big change for him, you know?"

Turning to walk up Main Street, he shrugged one shoulder and said, "Yeah."

"Are you upset?"

"What? Me? Why would I be upset, Emma? The pirate can do what he wants."

Emma's spidey senses were tingling at that, but she let him keep up the charade of indifference. It secretly made her happy to know that her father, although he would never admit it, had a sort of kinship with Hook. She was certain their adventure in the Enchanted Forest had brought them closer together, but neither one had told her what transpired when she was in that dungeon, and she didn't think either would own up to it if she asked.

David rounded the corner and unlocked the door to the station. They both went in, each instinctually checking to make sure they were alone.

"Here," he said, squatting in front of the video monitor. "Look at this."

She pulled up a metal chair, sat down and watched as her father rewound the closed circuit camera tape and cued up the scene he wanted. "Watching the station videos? Must have been a really exciting afternoon." She scrunched her nose. "Ugh. What's that smell?"

"Oh. Snow says fish is good for the baby's brain. I mean. She eats the fish and the baby, you know, gets it from her. So, we're having lots of fish. Tuna sandwich for lunch." He nodded to the paper bag in the trash.

"I'm sure Neal will be brilliant, like his parents." Emma smiled.

He patted her on the shoulder, "If you're any indication, he'll be just fine. So, look. Right here," He played the bit of footage from when the bankers were in the station. She watched as they entered, spoke to her, and turned and left.

"There. Do you see?" He pointed at the one in the back, moving near her desk.

"Yes. Can you play it again?"

He hit rewind and she watched as the second banker brushed against her desk, slipping something into the open drawer.

"What is that?" she said, crossing to her desk. Slowly pulling out her drawer, she looked inside.

"Be careful," he said as she reached in to draw out the item in question. An expression of confusion crossed his face. "A dagger?"

Her face matched his. "Why a dagger?" Emma looked carefully at the hilt. "Two B's? Mean anything to you?"

Charming took the blade from her and looked at it, then sat it on the desk. "Those guys that came from the bank? What were their names?"

She rifled through papers on the desk and came to the names of the complainants: "John Whitesides and William Fairfield. 'B' for 'Bill'?"

"Something about this seems wrong. I don't like it."

"Agreed," she said, inspecting the blade. "Maybe Gold has seen this before?"

"I'll call him," said Charming.

* * *

Gold leaned on his cane, holding the dagger in his free hand, inspecting it from wooden hilt to insignia to point. "No, I'm afraid I haven't seen this before."

"Any idea why it's here?" David asked.

"Not a clue. You say it looked intentional?"

Emma nodded her head, "Yeah."

The door to the station squeaked open and Emma, David and Gold turned to watch Regina stride into the room, clad in a red suit and pumps. She walked over to them, glancing quickly at the dagger, and back at them.

"To what do we owe the pleasure, Regina?"

She narrowed her eyes at Emma in answer to her question, and then crinkled her nose, "What is that smell?"

"Tuna. Snow packed David's lunch," Emma said, "But, seriously. Why are you here?"

"I wanted to see if you could watch Henry tonight, but…it seems you're busy," Regina looked back to the dagger. "Wait, can I see that?"

"Be my guest, dearie." Gold handed it to her.

Regina took the dagger and turned it over in her hands. "I've seen this before."

"You have?" said Emma.

"Yes. I have been running revelation spells on some things I took from these men at the bank. I don't like the look of them. I don't trust them."

Gold seemed to be impressed at this.

"Revelation spells?" asked David.

She waved her hand, saying, "Oh. You take objects belonging to someone and you cast a spell that allows you to see glimpses of interactions that happened in the vicinity of the item. I saw them holding this."

Emma said, "Well they dropped it into my desk and we don't know why."

Regina handed the dagger to Emma. "Unfortunately there's no sound that accompanies these glimpses, so I can't guess what they were saying, but I do know it came from a wooden box one of the men was holding. It looked quite old and had a skull and crossbones carved into it."

Emma didn't have to read minds to know that every single one of them was thinking of Hook. Even though there was no logical reason he'd get bankers to drop the dagger in her desk.

"Can you do the revelation spell on this dagger, Regina?" Emma asked.

She shook her head, "Not now. It's complicated and requires some items I only keep in my vault."

"You mean – is that what you've been doing in your vault?"

"Yes, Ms. Swan. Sorry to disappoint," Regina said in snide tones. "If you want, I can take this dagger and let you know what it reveals. It will have to be tomorrow."

Charming wondered aloud, "Maybe there's an easier answer. Perhaps we should ask Hook about this. He might know about it." Annnnd, there it was. Fate had brought another issue to Killian and Emma's doorstep.

"I'll go down and show this to him," Emma said, picking it up and moving to the door. She silently hoped that Killian would not know what this dagger was, that he'd never seen it before. "I'll give you a ring, David, if he knows anything. If he doesn't, I'll bring it over to you later, Regina. Or, wait, did you have plans?"

"No," Regina said, a little too forcefully, which left Emma wondering what exactly she had plans to do that she didn't want to talk about.

"Okay, I'm off," she said. "David, I'll let you know what we find out."

* * *

Emma could just make out the shapes of Hook and Henry sitting on the aft deck of the boat, heavy in discussion. She boarded the Jolly Roger and Killian looked back as she climbed the stairs towards him.

"You two look like you're having fun." Emma put her arms around both their shoulders.

Henry didn't look up but said, "It looks like the people you took the ship from were going to make some sort of deal with…we can't make it out."

She nudged Killian's arm and he looked her in the eyes. She nodded down to her hand. "Look what I found in my desk drawer at work. Two guys dropped it in there earlier today."

Henry was still busy reading the papers, so he didn't see the look of dread fill Killian's face at the sight.

"I know that insignia, Emma. But. How did it get here? It's impossible. He's supposed to be dead. I _saw _him die."

"Who?"

"Blackbeard." Only the voice did not issue from Killian's mouth. Just behind Emma stood the man himself, in full pirate regalia. Very much alive and wearing a look of complete satisfaction. "And I'll be taking that back, thank you."


	4. Reckoning

**Chapter 4: Reckoning**

Killian took a step forward, beside Emma, his body forming a shield in front of Henry. "Blackbeard. I have to say, death becomes you," Killian said, motioning his hand up and down in Blackbeard's direction.

He ran his hands down the front of his coat, patted the pockets, and grinned. "Alas, I took a detour on the way to Davy Jones' Locker. I am still very much alive." He climbed the stairs to the aft deck, and stood there, staring at Killian, flipping the dagger in his hand twice before thrusting it into his belt.

"Aye? And you came all the way here to pay me a visit? I didn't know you cared."

Blackbeard stroked the railing of the ship, musing, "Nice work you've done here. When I leave port with this ship, it's nice to know she'll hold together for the journey."

Hook cocked his head. "Now there's wishful thinking. You know what _I_ think? That I shouldn't have left it to the sharks to finish you off. A mistake I won't be making again."

Smee tossed Killian his sword and he caught it deftly, aiming it at Blackbeard's chest.

Blackbeard barely flinched, shaking his head and waving off the sword, as though it were a mere trifle. "Not sharks – mermaids. Damnable creatures. Thought they were going to finish me off. Apparently, they were there to speak with that lady friend of yours. 'Twas my good fortune that she ignored their requests for a parley. When she swam into the sunset, they enlisted my help."

Emma heard quiet shuffles and casually looked down at the deck of the Jolly Roger. Everywhere, members of the crew had put down their tools and were making subtle shifts in posture. In the matter of a minute each had assumed a defensive stance, with their hands on weapons kept in pockets and on belt buckles.

Not wanting things to escalate any further, Emma threw up a hand, and addressed Blackbeard. "Hold up. Can we just take a few steps back and explain what is going on here?"

Pointing his head to Emma, but ignoring her question, he said, "And here's your latest dalliance, Hook."

Killian glanced at her and back to Blackbeard, with a blank expression, but Emma could tell that he was nervous. Which didn't help to ease the fear creeping up her spine.

Blackbeard shook his head, mock regret in his voice, "You know what I've heard? That you've gone soft over a woman. What happened to the man who was more than willing to ruin someone else's chance at love for his ship? Now there was a man I could respect."

At this, Emma looked back at Killian. He breathed deeply, shoulders dropping, and she knew that there was honesty in what Blackbeard was saying. Why hadn't she asked him more questions about the missing year? Henry glanced at her, questioning. She shook her head faintly.

"I don't quite care what you believe of me," Killian said. "I assure you, you'll be no less dead."

Emma then addressed Blackbeard in a voice laced with power and authority. "You need to take a good long look around you. You're outnumbered. Captain Hook is right. Whatever your intentions, I don't think the odds are in your favor." Emma fitted her hand over the gun in her holster.

"My, my. She's got spirit, this one." He was speaking to Killian again, instead of her. And it was starting to piss her off.

"Look, Blackbeard. I'm giving you an out." She motioned her arm towards the gangplank. "Take it while you still can."

Finally, he turned to face her, and said, "Emma, is it? Sorry we have to meet under these circumstances. But, this does not concern you. Think long and hard before you involve yourself in this. It is not your battle to fight. Don't risk your life for his."

"Leave her alone," Killian said.

"Aye. I intend to. Very much alone. But what is this!? Concern for a woman? Oh! You _do_ love her."

Killian worked his jaw inside of his mouth. He said nothing.

He waved his hand. "Of course, I've heard something of the sort. One similarity between this Storybrooke and the villages of the Enchanted Forest – _everyone_ knows everything. And – oh! – do villagers love to talk. Sad that you'll never see Emma here, or anywhere else, ever again."

Taking a step towards Blackbeard, Killian said, with his weapon still drawn, "Whatever you think you're going to do, you're going to have to go through me first."

To his left, Emma thought forcefully, _No. Don't. _Blackbeard looked at her, cocking his head, and she wondered if maybe she had actually said the words aloud.

Killian said with some impatience, "Now, Blackbeard! Draw your sword. I haven't got all day. After I dispatch you, I'd like to have some dinner. Maybe have some ale. You're wasting my precious time."

A hearty laugh issued from Blackbeard. "I would draw, but what would be the point? You won't be able to pierce my skin. It's not going to be a fair fight, matey. You see – those mermaids – they brought me to Triton and we made a deal. I kill that prince who ensnared his daughter, and bring her back to him. I get to keep the Jolly Roger. More importantly, I get my revenge."

Killian backed up a step, sword not held quite as high, and Emma could tell that this information did not fall happily on his ears.

"Ariel wasn't taken away. She chose to be with Eric. She loves him." Emma shook her head and said through lips thin with rage. "You'll never find her."

He shrugged his shoulders. "She loves him. That's nice. Love clouds the mind; it makes you weak. It will make it that much easier for me to kill the prince. And, lass, I know exactly where he is. I'm the one who put him there. I can be there in a matter of days."

Emma stood her ground. "Yeah. That's not going to happen. You may have this deal with Triton. Still. One man against twenty; we may not be able to kill you, but we _can_ take you down."

As though in a scene from a comic book movie, where the hero looks up and finds henchmen closing in on all sides, Emma saw unfamiliar men began to materialize on the docks around the Jolly Roger, brandishing weapons. She caught the familiar faces of the two bankers in the crowd. They were no longer in suits, and had donned linen shirts and breeks. One of them winked at her.

Blackbeard leaned on the railing. "You didn't think I came alone, did you? I've brought my finest with me. And as a bonus, I leave this godforsaken town with two more in my ranks. You see that scroll there? That, mateys, was enchanted. Anyone who reads those scrolls is bound into servitude under me forever."

The pieces fell together and Emma sucked in a breath. She put her arm around Henry. Killian crossed the space between himself and Blackbeard, grabbing the lapels of his overcoat, and said, "You want revenge on me. You have _no _need of the boy."

"Aye. It certainly wasn't in my original plan. But, you have to appreciate the beauty in this. You will be the reason the woman you love is losing her only child. _And _you will never see each other again. Not only will you be my slave for eternity, but you will be heartbroken and riddled with guilt." He laughed enthusiastically. "It's just brilliant."

Emma couldn't breathe – she was going to lose both Killian and Henry if she didn't think of something. And fast. She focused all of her energy into her hands. Quickly, she directed her spell across the helm of the boat. A flash of white hit the scrolls. And…nothing.

"Oh-ho! Well this is a development. Hook! You never told me this one was a sorceress. Go ahead and try to break the curse, lass. This is a binding enchantment, it can't be broken. Unless you're the person who cast the spell. And you don't look like a god to me."

Undaunted, Emma again reached deep within and cast a spell at Blackbeard, to bind him with a rope lying nearby. The rope flew up from the deck, moved towards his torso, and fell lamely on the floor at his feet.

"I don't think you understand. You cannot touch me with your spells. Triton is a god. You are a mere mortal. It's a shame Hook showed your boy the scroll. It is. But he's a strapping lad and I've taken on much younger in my day. And now, I suggest you say your goodbyes. I grow tired of this nonsense."

Blackbeard's crew had the men of the Jolly Roger surrounded. Emma's heart was racing and she felt like she couldn't breathe. She couldn't let this happen. There had to be a way out of this situation. _Think, Swan. _Every scenario she ran over in her mind ended badly.

Killian's face was a masque of stoicism layered over what she knew was a world of pain. It matched her own.

She had no idea how to thwart the power of a god. Then, inspiration struck her. She knew what she had to do. She squared her shoulders and prepared to let her world crumble for the time-being.

Emma walked to Killian first, taking his hand in hers. With an unbidden tear in her eye, she took his chain in her right hand and tugged on it, bringing his head toward hers. Her heart was heavy in her chest as her forehead met his.

"Emma…love. This is my reckoning, and I may well deserve this. But I swear to you, I will find a way to get Henry back to you."

She ran her fingers gently through the hair near his ear – a touch filled with tenderness – and leaned forward to kiss his cheek, lips grazing the rasp of his beard as she spoke. "I will see you again," she said, trying to lock in the memory of the tingle in her lips – a feeling she had come to associate with kissing Killian.

Emma made a move towards his lips, but glanced around at the assorted faces staring at her and thought better of it. Instead, she backed away a step. She was momentarily caught off-guard as Killian grasped her by the back of the head, fingers in her hair, and kissed her, taking her breath away with the immediacy and desperation of it. And for a moment, the world was only the two of them.

As they separated, Emma looked pointedly into his eyes. "Don't take the chain off, hear me?" she said in a murmur. She caught a glimmer of comprehension in his face, and knew he understood.

She pulled back, and turned to Henry. "You know _who _I am. What I do. I'll do it again."

He nodded.

She put her arms around him, hugging, and said, "All that I am – what I've become – I owe to you. You are everything. You know that?"

"Thanks, Mom…and…I believe in you."

"You keep your head down, until I see you again." She kissed the top of his head.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I have Killian."

She continued hugging him, drinking in the warmth and closeness of him, not letting herself go to a place where she saw this as a "last hug" for fear that the thought would infect the clarity of her plan. And without clarity, there would be tragic missteps.

She kissed him again on the cheek and said softly, "It won't be long."

"I know," he said "I love you."

"I love you, too," she said, on the brink of tears.

She turned to Killian, and looked into his eyes. "We've been through worse before. This is nothing."

He smiled sadly, "I'm sorry I brought this on you. It's my f-"

Emma stopped him, saying, "You can't spend your time with Henry thinking that way. Promise me you won't."

Blackbeard spoke up, "As much as this entertains me, I really must be on my way. I want to get to finding that mermaid, and enjoying my ship, and my vengeance. Time to weigh anchor. Shame we couldn't talk more, Miss Swan, but I've already spent too much time in this unbearable place."

Emma began to descend the stairs, her heart splintering into a thousand pieces, mind racing. But as she reached the bottom, she looked up, searching for Killian's face. She mouthed the words, "I love you," to him.

"I know, Emma." He flashed her a playful half-grin that didn't reach to the melancholy in his eyes – his attempt at putting her at ease. It was all she could do not to throw herself at Blackbeard's mercy and ask him to take her with him. But leaving was the only hope she had to rescue them.

As she disembarked along with Killian's crew, she felt a hand at her back. It was Smee. He was looking at her in a way he never had before. He was nodding, in recognition of their shared agony, and she squeezed his hand.

He said, "Promise me. Whatever you do, you let me help."

"Of course."

"You make him a better person, Emma. A better captain."

She was shocked at this heartfelt admission, but before she could thank him, Smee and the rest of the crew dissipated into the side streets. None of them wanted to watch their ship sail away from them once again.

A moment later, David and Regina came running down the street, clearly aware that something was horribly wrong.

"What is going on here, Swan?" Regina said, staring at the Jolly Roger.

"Emma. Where's Henry?" Her father looked worried.

"It's Blackbeard. BB. BB was Blackbeard. He's taking Hook." She looked at Regina. "And Henry."

Regina made a dash for the boat, where the crew was pulling up the gangway and loosing the ropes that kept the boat – and all that Emma held dear – tethered to the dock. To this town. Emma ran and grabbed Regina's arm, bringing her up short.

"Let go of me, Swan. I will stop him." Regina yanked her arm out of Emma's grasp, holding her hands up, as though about to cast a spell.

"You can't. Listen to me," Emma implored. Regina had her eyes on the ship, where Henry was being taken below-decks. He raised a hand in farewell to Regina and Emma, and tried to smile, lifting his chin high as though to let them know that he would be okay. Emma felt sick.

"Regina. The magic on that ship is the magic of a god. Triton. You can't do anything…yet. I tried."

The queen's eyes widened, reinforcing Emma's belief that this was a force that Regina had never anticipated. Regina shifted on her feet, clearly wanting to do something, staring as the ship pulled away from the docks, and not knowing what to do.

David put his arm around Emma, stroking the back of her head as though she were a child. In all honesty, it had been a long time since she felt so small. She let a tear drop from her eye. "Dad. I couldn't stop him. I wasn't good enough."

"You did all you could Emma. You are only one person. Don't carry the weight of this on your shoulders. We will find them and bring them home, as we have done before."

The whole time they stood there, Killian kept his eyes fixed on hers, even as his hands were bound and he was taken below-decks. Watching the top of his head disappear, she let the tears flow freely.

Regina began to silently cry. There was pain knitted into her brows, as her mouth was open in shock.

In a show of solidarity that Emma had never seen, David took Regina's hand. And she let him. The three watched as the ship moved out into the harbor. Emma gasped softly as the ship carrying two of the three men she loved most in the world disappeared into a portal.


	5. Well-Laid Plans

**Chapter 5: Well-Laid Plans**

In the dark of the tiny cabin, something rolled across the floor and hit Killian's foot. Night had fallen on the Jolly Roger, and the crew was relatively silent, save the occasional snort or cough in the neighboring room. All that remained of the day was the faint odor of onion wafting in from the galley and the unceasing guilt Killian felt in the pit of his stomach. The comfort he found in the familiar sway of his boat and the creaking of her hull was not enough to keep at bay his regrets from that fateful night, when he had watched Blackbeard disappear off the end of that bloody plank. _If I could wield magic like Swan, I would take that wand and go back to-_

A snuffle from across the room halted his ruminations. The boy was clearly still awake.

"Henry, lad, how are you?" he whispered.

"Fine." He had a lightness in his voice that lent credence to his assertion, but Killian could hear the underlying strain. "Just my hands. Lots of deck, uh, swabbing today. And I- How are you?"

"Ah, I'm as strong as an ox." Killian adjusted himself quietly, sucking in a breath when he rolled onto what felt like a broken rib. Why did it always have to be his ribs? He prodded the area and, coming to the conclusion he was right, he balled up a length of canvas and placed it under his side. Henry needed a rock in this storm; he sure as hell wasn't going to give him something to worry about by revealing the true extent of his injuries. "Just a trifle. Scratches is all."

"Killian, you don't have to lie to me. I _did _spend time with the Lost Boys. I've seen some pretty gross stuff. Those aren't scratches that are making you breathe like that."

Damned if he wasn't his mother's son. "No, really. I'm fine. Did I ever tell you about the time we sailed to this little island off the coast of Neverland and had a run-in with the mermaids?"

Henry sighed at the change of subject, but didn't pursue the matter. "I don't think so."

"I didn't? Well. It was Smee who first spotted the island – a small bit of sand with only a hill and a few palm trees to its name – nothing of note, really. Or, so we believed." As Killian wove his tale of mermaids, treasure, and mortal peril, Henry listened, interjecting from time to time, until he began to mumble incoherently. Eventually, the sound of heavy breathing issued from across the room.

Killian unthinkingly made a move to stand up and check on Henry, but was held back by a shackle on his good arm, which clattered in the silence. He exhaled – long and slow – wincing with pain, and laid his head down on the tarp.

_Curse this_, he thought. _Why am I sitting here on my hindquarters? I need to be doing something._

They still had maybe a day until they reached Hangman's Island, and if that happened, and Blackbeard returned Ariel to Triton, he wasn't sure that any of them were going to live very long. Killian had known a fair few mermaids and, other than that cursed red-head, their general take on humans was – the less, the better. Blackbeard may have felt that Triton was giving him the deal of the century, but, in this, he was going to be sorely mistaken. Killian was certain he knew how this would end: Blackbeard would return Ariel and, in thanks, Triton would send the crew of the Jolly Roger to Davy Jones' locker.

This waiting around for what he saw as their inevitable fate wasn't in his nature. It made him twitchy. Killian clenched his battered fist and relaxed it again. He had been trying to lay low, and look out for Henry. But damn, it felt good pushing the buttons of Blackbeard and his crew. It had earned him a bloody lip, innumerable bruises, and, apparently, a broken rib, but it sure took the edge off. And it kept him occupied until Emma – well – until she did whatever she was going to do.

Closing his eyes in the darkness, he willed Emma's face into his mind. He tried to conjure the feeling of running his hand through her hair; the way her body moved towards his even when she was angry with him; the way her breath caught when he told her what he was going to do to her in bed, or anywhere else, for that matter. He felt her absence acutely, as though his rudder had been suddenly rent out from under him. _It's only been two days, mate. Pull yourself together._

Patting his vest out of habit, and coming up empty, he tried ineffectually to rid himself of this anxiety without the aid of his rum. He adjusted his shirt, took his hook off, fluffed the canvas under him, and, after a fitful spell, drifted off.

* * *

"I just don't understand why you won't let me do this. He's my father, after all." Ariel spoke through the mirror with an expression of great concern on her face. "You don't know him. He's not…reasonable. "

"That's where you're wrong," Gold said, never meeting Ariel's eyes while he stroked his walking stick. "I _know_ your father."

Regina glanced at Gold, as did Emma. _Just how much pertinent information was he withholding_? So far, he had only given guidance regarding what spells could possibly distract, stun and bind Triton. But Emma suspected there a deeper knowledge there. That there was something important he was holding back. She looked at the clock in her mother's apartment, wondering where her family was. They should have been here by now.

Emma looked back into the mirror, speaking to Ariel, "I understand where you're coming from, but if you go to him, we lose the one chance we have to save Henry and Killian. And we will lose you, Ariel. He'll use any means to keep you from Eric. And if you don't have magic, he'll likely succeed. No. This is how it has to be."

Ariel looked down in thought, and back over her shoulder at Eric. She nodded reluctantly. "Okay. We'll go. But, you need to be careful. Promise."

With an affirmative nod, a farewell, and a wave of her hand, Emma returned the mirror to its normal state. For a nearly imperceptible moment, Regina cracked a grin in appreciation of Emma's new-found ability to communicate through the mirror. If Gold was impressed, however, it didn't show.

The door opened, suddenly. "Well, we have everything we need," Mary Margaret walked in and shifted Neal to her right hip to pull a couple of vials out of her bag, handing them to Emma.

Regina held out her hand, "Key to my vault."

Mary Margaret dropped it into her palm, "Here."

David turned around and started to shut the door, but Gold was there and held up his cane to block it. "Uh-uh-uh. I need to be going now. Sorry to leave this Charming family moment, but I have business to attend to."

"And we'll see you at the Sheriff's station later?" Regina asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Don't worry, dearie. I'll be there." With that, he walked out the door, slamming it shut with a sweep of his hand.

Mary Margaret watched him leave and glanced at Regina, before turning her attention to Emma. "So. Is everything ready?"

Was she ready? To test her magic against a god? To put herself in a vulnerable position with Regina? She didn't fully trust her yet, let alone feel comfortable with relying on her to keep up her end of this plan. But if there was one thing she had faith in, it was Regina's love for Henry. Surely, she wouldn't jeopardize her opportunity to save him.

Looking into her mother's eyes, she said softly, "Yes."

David put his arm around Emma and squeezed, "We know you can do this. We believe in you."

"We wish we were going with you." Mary Margaret handed Neal to David and leaned in to hug Emma. At that moment, Emma felt something heavy drop into her jacket. Her mother put her arm around her neck, moving her head closer to Emma's ear, and whispered, "Do _not_ take that thing out around anyone. It's from Belle. She left you a note. You'll understand what to do."

Mary Margaret held Emma's face in her hands, sighed audibly, and placed a kiss on her forehead. Neal gurgled happily in his father's grasp, waving a chubby little arm in Emma's direction. She picked him up and kissed his round cheek. "Don't you worry. I promise I'll be bringing back your nephew and your favorite babysitter real soon. Your sister never breaks her promises." He blew out some bubbles with his small lips.

"He says he understands." David said with a chuckle. He took Neal back, smiling at Emma, and dropped a light kiss on her cheek.

Regina walked purposefully to the door and opened it to leave. Clearly, this family farewell party was getting to her.

"Regina." Mary Margaret spoke. "I believe in you, too. We wish you luck."

For a moment Regina just stared at Mary Margaret, then, she nodded at her, the lines on her face softening.

"We need to get going, Swan."

"Good luck," David and Mary Margaret said together.

Emma walked out of the door, smiling back at half of her family, and set off to bring home the other half. It was only as she followed Regina down the stairs that she remembered the items in her pocket. She reached down casually and her fingertips met a folded sheet of paper and the cold, hard outline of an object that was unmistakably recognizable to her. Belle had given her Rumpelstiltskin's dagger.

She pulled the paper out of her pocket and read it: _This dagger has a brother. Triton's trident was forged from the same metal._

And in that moment, everything fell into place for Emma – why Rumpel had been so guarded, why her mother wanted this in _her_ hands, and what she needed to do with it.

* * *

Under cloudy skies, Blackbeard stood on the aft deck of the ship, shouting commands to the crew. To Killian's dismay, they had been graced with strong winds, and had made better time than even he expected. He stared up at the billowed sails, carrying them closer to their destination, and cursed this spell. As soon as they had set sail, Blackbeard made it clear that this enchantment would not allow him or Henry to leave the Jolly Roger, ever again. He had found, however, that, while aboard, he still had his free will, which he intended to exercise fully, if only to keep the crew's focus off of Henry.

Killian's attention was diverted when he caught a glimpse of Henry out of the corner of his eye. He was struggling with a large barrel he was meant to be moving to the galley. After a valiant effort, he lost his grip and the item rolled towards the railing, where it came to rest. Henry's shoulders visibly fell, but, undaunted, he set forth to start over.

A man with too many muscles, a lack of hair, and – in Killian's opinion – an odor that rivaled a hog's, named Boris, was now looming over Henry. His hand was reaching up to backhand the boy. Killian strolled towards the two, deliberately tripping over a rope, and heaved himself hard into the man's side.

"Oof!" Boris went down, drawing the attention of everyone on deck, as the boat rocked with his impact.

"Sorry, mate. Didn't see you there." Killian stared down at Boris, with a half-cocked grin plastered on his face. In an almost comical follow-up to this obvious charade, he held out his hand to the downed giant.

Boris stood up, ignoring the offer of help, rising over Killian with a look of joy. "Oh. You vant more pain leetle man?"

Henry stood to the side, surrounded by crew members hungry for blood, with his eyebrows furrowed, shaking his head.

"Actually, I was rather hoping you might opt for a pain-free sort of recompense, aye? Perhaps a game of dice?" Even as the words left his mouth, Boris was wordlessly pulling his pistol from his belt.

"I can see you're not one to reason with, so-" CRACK! Killian's vision was suddenly teeming with stars, as the butt of the gun hit him hard in the forehead. The force knocked him to the ground, face-first. He lay there, with the taste of blood in his mouth, wondering how many hits like that he could take before he lost consciousness altogether. Killian planted his hand and hook on the deck, and pushed up slowly, rising to meet the eyes of his aggressor, who was all smiles. The crew around them was cheering. Killian saw money changing hands. Henry's eyes were off in the distance. Just as well. It was best he not witness this.

Killian smiled back, a drip of blood rolling down his teeth and hitting the wood beneath him. He pointed his chin in the direction of the aft deck, "I think your captain wishes a word." Then – praising this man for his extreme gullibility – he drew back and landed a blow on the side of Boris' now-turned head, right in his temple. He went down like a sack. An audible groan rose up in the crowd, and, as money was exchanged again, Henry edged toward Killian.

The boy inclined his head toward Blackbeard, and then towards the horizon. Killian looked at the commotion near the helm and already knew what he'd find when he turned to look across the ship's starboard – Hangman's Island.

Blackbeard climbed down the ladder and came to stand next to Killian. He patted him on the shoulder, "See how easy that was? It's so lovely to watch a plan come together." Then he turned to look at Killian's face. "You have something on your face," he chortled, thumping him on his broken rib, and laughing all the way to the captain's quarters.

Killian remained silent, reflecting on his time in the Enchanted Forest and in Neverland with Emma. He still had faith that Henry's family – his mothers – would already have their own plan in action. He glanced over at him and found the child fixated on the island, knowing that he was thinking the same thing.

He was just about to return to his labors, when a large shadow rose up over him, pistol again in hand. "No vun trick Boris and valk avay," was the last thing Killian heard before everything went dark.


End file.
